


moonlit delusions

by jilliancares



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Coffee Shops, M/M, Misconceptions, Werewolves, werewolf!lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 01:39:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14864210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jilliancares/pseuds/jilliancares
Summary: Lance realizes that Keith, his coffee shop rival, is onto the fact that he's a werewolf and has to try to throw him off his trail.





	moonlit delusions

**Author's Note:**

> here's just a general warning for descriptions of the werewolf transformation and a flashback of when lance got bitten by a werewolf alright go forth and enjoy
> 
> update!!! THERE'S ART!!! it's embedded at the end and you can find the wonderful artist's tumblr linked in the end note!

It wouldn’t be _entirely_  accurate to say the full moon snuck up on Lance.

The full moon never snuck up on him, really. Before, the phases of the moon had meant absolutely nothing to him. Sometimes he’d glance up and see it, occasionally commenting if it was a full moon because hey, that’s what you did. But now, Lance was as aware of the moon as a cat was of the mouse. Except… maybe Lance was the mouse in this analogy. Being watched unblinkingly, stalked without knowing, until _pounce_. Except, instead of being eaten, Lance’s bones were shredded apart inside his body and he was turned into a wolf. You know. Normal things.

So, yes, Lance was usually prepared for the full moon. Besides being aware of it unlike anyone else, he also experienced changes because of it throughout the month. Closer to the full moon, he became more rash, more easy to rile up and argue with. He also become more excitable, loud and obnoxious and all the things that had his friends getting annoyed with him and telling him to knock it off, more often than not. Lance tried to control it, but it honestly felt impossible, and he knew he just had to get through the full moon. It was almost like a reset button.

As it was, it was impossible for Lance to miss the coming of the full moon. He had a full day of preparations beforehand, in which he went to the grocery store, stocked up on a ton of food, and then went to the hardware store, where he bought chains to replace any he’d broken the previous full moon. (Based on the looks he got there, he was pretty sure the majority of the staff thought he was up to some kinky shit.)

Anyway, Lance had done all this. He’d gorged himself in attempt to quell his appetite (because yes, he was always ravenous closer to the full moon. It was always hard not to laugh when he was scarfing down food and Allura said something along the lines of, “Jesus, Lance! You eat like such a dog!”) and was just headed down to the basement when the doorbell rang.

Lance knew he shouldn’t open it. He kind of had this whole thing down to the minute, meaning he really need to go and chain himself up unless he wanted to end up in the forest tonight, terrorizing innocent bunnies. But, curse his dog-like nature, the allure of the doorbell was too strong, and Lance found himself changing course and opening the door.

“ _Lance_?” said Keith incredulously.

“Why do you sound surprised?” Lance demanded. “You’re the one who knocked on _my_  door.”

“I didn’t know you lived here!” Keith protested. And then, grudgingly, “My bike broke down.” He stepped away from the door slightly, angling a thumb over his shoulder to show his indeed broken down motorcycle on the side of the road (Lance could tell it was broken down solely because Keith said so, and also because it wasn’t rumbling loudly like it usually was.)

Keith and Lance were not friends. They were _rivals_.

It was hard not to be when Keith was constantly making Lance’s life harder. They worked in coffee shops across the street from each other, and while neither of them owned the shops they worked at, they both seemed to take the competition personally. Lance had started coming up with catchy slogans to write on the chalkboard sign in front of _The Last Roast_ , and in retaliation, Keith had _bought_  a chalkboard sign to put in front of _Coffee Coffee Bean Bean_. And honestly, what the fuck kind of coffee shop name _was_  that? And where the hell did Keith get off on copying marketing ideas?!

Anyway, Lance and Keith? Rivals. _Enemies_. So the thought of Keith having wound up at Lance’s house by accident pissed him right off. Now Keith knew where he _lived_. There was a certain kind of vulnerability to that, you know.

“So… What do you want?” Lance finally asked, after they’d both just stood there, staring at each other as if waiting for the other to make the next move. Lance was feeling a familiar itch underneath his skin, and deeper than that, an ache. And ache which would soon be complete, unadulterated pain. God, Lance hated full moons.

“A tool box, really,” Keith said, his arms now crossed defensively. “I can fix it up myself enough to limp to an actual mechanic.” Lance bit down on his tongue, because he’d worked at a car shop for a while in high school and was actually _good_  at this kind of thing. But he wasn’t about to tell that to Keith, of all people. One, because he hated his entire guts. And _two_ , because Lance’s body was itching to wolf out on him and he really couldn’t stall any longer.

“Um, I don’t have a tool box,” Lance lied. Keith’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.

“Well then… Can I use your phone?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“Lance! I know you have a fucking phone!”

Lance bit his lip, his inner politeness, shaped by his Mama, rivaling his need to chain himself up in his basement before it was too late. With a groan, Lance pulled his phone out of his back pocket.

“Make it quick,” he instructed. “I’m in the middle of something.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but he took Lance’s phone and turned around on the porch after dialing a number.

“Shiro? Can you come pick me up?”

Lance tuned out of the conversation, his arms crossed around his middle as his bones began to feel brittle, minute shivers coursing through his body. Of fucking course Keith had to end up breaking down _here_  of all places. Lance lived nowhere near anyone! He couldn’t even see his closet neighbor’s house and he was surrounded by a forest — all for good reason. Honestly, he’d been dealing with this werewolf shit for almost two years now, he kind of knew what he needed in order to get by.

Suddenly, Keith was turning around, holding Lance’s phone out to him. “Thanks,” he said, albeit gruffly.

“Mhmm. You getting picked up soon?”

“Yeah,” Keith said, rubbing his arm a bit awkwardly. He almost looked like he was about to ask to come in, but Lance absolutely could not be having that, and so he said, “Alright, that’s good! Get home safe! Goodbye!” Keith, understandably, looked a bit taken aback by Lance’s sudden kind sentiment, but Lance couldn’t waste anymore time. He slammed the door in Keith’s face and locked it, sprinting down to his basement immediately afterward.

Something inside him — a rib or two — snapped as he was going down the stairs. As used to it as he was, Lance simply groaned under his breath, sliding across the unfinished basement floor at last, ripping off his shirt and pants as he did. The ribs didn’t even hurt the worst, anyway.

Clamping his mouth down around broken noises of pain, Lance got to work with his shackles and chains, tying himself up as best as he could as his fingers began to break and splinter.

“Fuck,” Lance panted, falling to his knees as there was a loud _crack_  and he doubled over himself, his spine aching, his everything aching. He was still holding a chain, but he couldn’t quite remember where he was trying to put it, so he ended up just wrapping it around another chain connecting to him and hoping it would do. Afterwards, he collapsed to the ground, laying on top of the hard and cold chains beneath him, panting as pain ricocheted through his body.

Lance really hoped Keith had gotten picked up already, because soon the screaming began, and Lance couldn’t hold it in any longer. Everything was breaking, ripping, reforming, and Lance was subject to all the pain, completely awake and aware for all of it, as his screams turned to yelps turned to whimpers.

Soon enough, a large wolf lay confined in the basement. It struggled to its feet, growling at the restraints it found itself in, and set to work. The restraints weren’t quite right, and with enough twisting and turning and frustrated growling, the wolf was free, pacing through the area now free to its whims.

With no discernible exits available, the wolf climbed the wooden stairs into a brightly lit area which hurt its eyes. Given enough exploration, it found the outdoors, presented to it through a layer of glass. With a growl, the wolf jumped through the glass, setting out into the night to hunt. It was feeling especially hungry.

—

Lance groaned as he awoke. His entire body felt sore, which was not uncommon for a night after the full moon. What _was_  uncommon was feeling what felt like rocks and twigs and dirt underneath him — _fuck_.

He shot upward, instantly awake as his eyes raked over the area surrounding him. He was deep in the forest, wherever he was, and it was still early morning, the air cool and soft, dawn light seeping through the branches above him. He was completely naked, also not unusual, and there was blood on his chest, go fucking figure. There didn’t seem to be too much of it, though, so he could at least assume it’d been something small.

A pained sound escaped Lance’s throat as he slowly got to his feet, each and every one of his muscles sore. Another downside of actually escaping during the full moon: there was much more work involved in order to get to a hot bath accompanied by a hot cup of coffee.

God, fucking Keith. _Fuck_  Keith. It was his fault he hadn’t been able to tie himself up properly. It’d even been a couple months since he’d last escaped! Lance had to admit, he was still learning the best way to tie himself up, and he was pretty sure that somehow, his wolf form was learning too. Learning how to best escape the restraints.

“Fuck,” Lance muttered to himself. He padded carefully along the soft underbrush of the forest, glad it at least smelled familiar. He couldn’t be too far from home, then. Oh, yeah — that was one wolfish trait that never seemed to leave him. His sense of smell. And his hearing, really, though they both got sharper later on in the month, for obvious reasons.

Anyway, Lance was much too comfortable being naked in the middle of nowhere. The first few times it’d happened to him, it’d been a desperate scramble to get back to his house, half willing to make himself some sort of underwear out of leaves along the way. Now, he just stumbled forward drowsily, like an old man sick of the familiar shit he had to go through.

Luckily, due to the sun’s trajectory and the extensive studies Lance had done of the area — alright that was all bullshit. Luckily, due to Lance’s sense of smell and the trail of dead and vaguely-delicious smelling animals he came across, he was led much closer to his house, eventually picking up on a more _him_  scent and proceeding on with a bit more relief.

There was no one around, as per usual, and it was with a huge sigh that Lance finally let himself back into his house (and by let himself in, he meant climbed through the broken glass back door, because of fucking course he’d done that). It wasn’t long before Lance was sitting in a bath and praying away his aches and pains, crunching on a toasted Poptart as he did. Yes, this could very possibly be the height of luxury.

—

Turning into a werewolf was just a part of Lance’s life now, a kind of blip on the radar. Or, more than a blip, seeing as it came with the added senses and hunger and dread of knowing he was going to be in a shit-load of pain. But it was still just a part of his normal life now.

He’d never told anyway, because, hell to the no. If he told either Hunk or Pidge he’d just be their next science experiment. And _that_  sounded like a chance for them to get mauled by a starving and ferocious wolf, so no thank you to that idea. Plus, secrets were easier to keep alone. This way, at least, there was no chance of word getting out. No chance of government workers winding up at his door and taking him away to be studied.

So Lance was truly in on this on his own. And after a night of being a wolf, he went back to his regularly scheduled life, aka making coffee for rude customers and glaring daggers at Keith across the street, who was changing his sign to an apparently more witty slogan than:

 _< — Good coffee_  
_great coffee — >_

You’d never guess which arrow was pointed where. But then again, Keith had gone and admitted that _The Last Roast_  was good, so joke’s on him.

Anyway, the point was that it _should’ve_  just been another normal day. Lance should’ve scrolled on his phone a bit, looking for anything that could inspire him for his new sign, and made coffee for people who made jokes about not being able to function without it. He should’ve maybe made eye contact with Keith once or twice, solely to exchange glares, and spent the rest of the day idly chatting with his coworkers, one of which was Pidge, bless her soul.

But that’s not how Lance’s day went.

Instead, Keith decided to go and throw a wrench in Lance’s plans, because one moment Lance was handing a coffee over to some blonde chick and saying, “Have a nice day!” and the next the door was tinkling open, and standing in the doorway was none other than Enemy No. 1, Keith Kogane himself.

Lance had never come up with a plan for if Keith were to enter _The Last Roast_. Having never thought out this scenario before, Lance ended up blurting, “What are _you_  doing here?” He was alone at the counter as he said this, seeing as it was a slow point in the afternoon and everyone else was in the back taking their breaks, munching on leftover pastries from the day before.

Keith just stood there, looking kind of constipated.

“Look, if you’re here to admit our coffee is way better, go ahead.”

“Your coffee’s too sweet,” Keith said in response, and Lance gasped, personally offended.

“Then why are you here?!”

Keith pursed his lips. “When I was at your house last night —”

“Creepy, by the way.”

“— I heard screaming.”

Lance froze, his hands gripping each other tightly beneath the counter in the desperation to do _something_.

“Uh-huh,” Lance said slowly, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“I almost called the police,” Keith said, looking plenty suspicious. “It sounded like you were murdering someone.”

Lance laughed, sounding way too relieved as he said, “Oh, murdering someone!” Of course, Keith thought he was a murderer, not a werewolf!

Oh God, Keith thought he was a murderer!

“I’m not a murderer,” Lance hastily informed him. “Um, I had someone over last night. It got pretty rough, if you know what I mean,” he said, winking so Keith would know _exactly_  what he meant.

“Oh,” Keith muttered, his cheeks going pink.

“Yep,” Lance said with an unapologetic shrug. “I mean, you remember what a hurry I was in.”

“Yeah,” Keith said slowly, but he still looked vaguely suspicious and Lance had absolutely no idea what to do with that. But thankfully, Keith finally turned around to leave, still not ordering anything (rude!) and Lance felt relief bloom in his chest.

It was short-lived, though. Following that day, Keith was weirdly _present_  in Lance’s life.

He seemed to be looking at Lance whenever Lance was looking at him. He popped into _The Last Roast_  almost every day, even going as far as to order their supposedly “too sweet” coffee in order to look purposeful. He squinted and stared and pursed his lips at Lance near constantly. Honestly, Lance was getting sick of it!

But it was obvious why he was doing it.

He clearly wasn’t satisfied with the answer Lance had given him, and now Lance was dreading the thought that Keith was onto him for real.

It only took one incident for Lance to affirm that this was true.

Three quarters of the month had passed by the time Lance realized Keith was honest-to-God trying to figure out whether he was a werewolf or not. Meaning, there was only one week for Lance to make absolutely sure that Keith couldn’t figure out the truth, that he didn’t get anywhere near Lance’s house again.

It happened in the coffee shop, because Keith was there all the time now, and Lance knew far too much about Keith after all the visits he’d been forced to endure. Like the fact that sometimes he wore his hair in a bun, and it made Lance want to die because it was so cute. And sometimes, very, very rare sometimes, he wore _glasses_ , because apparently he owned those too.

And so, Keith having come into the shop around his usual time, earning Lance’s eye-roll and a swipe for the same small cup he always got his coffee in, Lance was treated to all the proof he needed to assure himself that Keith was onto him. Keith stopped abruptly before the counter, a hand held against his chest. It looked like he’d caught his necklace just as it’d somehow come undone, Keith having pressed it between his fingers and his chest to stop it from falling all the way to the floor. He cursed under his breath.

“Can you hook this back on for me?” he asked, looking up at Lance. And Lance noticed the way he seemed to stand there, body still and with bated breath. The way he took a step closer, necklace proffered to Lance.

And then Lance glanced at it and had to hold back a wince.

It was _silver_. As in the metal, not the color. The same metal that made Lance’s skin burn, that made him hiss and cry out and jump away from the source. He’d discovered this the hard way, of course, but now he could tell when something was silver at a glance. Maybe it was because of his heightened senses, or because he was peculiarly weak to it, but to Lance’s eye, silver looked a little bit too bright, a little bit too shiny.

A little bit too much like it would burn him.

Trying to play it off, Lance scrunched his nose. “And risk touching your greasy mullet? I don’t think so.”

Keith frowned. “My hair’s not greasy,” he argued. “My mother gave this to me, can’t you just help me put it back on?”

And dammit. Damn it all to hell. Lance would’ve said yes, had it not been silver. The way Keith said that made it sound like his mother was dead, and Lance was way too sympathetic towards shit like that. Just the thought of anything happening to his own mom made his eyes threaten to grow hot.

But Lance couldn’t touch the silver, obviously, and so he didn’t.

“Why are you asking me?” Lance demanded rudely. “It’s not like we’re friends.” Some sort of emotion seemed to flash in Keith’s eyes at that — indecipherable to Lance — but he ignored it.

“Right,” Keith said flatly, tucking the necklace back into his pocket. Lance felt himself deflate a little in relief, but not for long. Because obviously Keith was onto him, and Lance didn’t quite know what to do about it.

Obviously, Lance had to be extra careful. He tried not to argue as much as he usually did this close to the full moon, tried not to be as hyperactive as his body felt. He tried not to eat like a starving man, and he tried to coordinate everything perfectly, so that Keith couldn’t possibly discover his secret.

To be extra sure, Lance even went to the grocery store a day early, leaving absolutely nothing up to chance on the day of the full moon. He was just strolling into the checkout line with his usual cart full to the brimming with all the things he knew he was going to consume within the next day when he ran into _Keith_.

Keith, standing right before him in line. Lance would’ve avoided him if he could actually see around his cart. You’d think Lance would’ve smelt the guy, but no, apparently he was too distracted to even register that sweet and honey-like scent that Keith got off on carrying around everywhere. Like, seriously, no one could smell like that _naturally_. Right?

Standing there, Lance’s mouth fell a little bit open in surprise. Here he’d been, doing everything in his ability to avoid and evade Keith, and here he was now, having practically walked right into his open arms.

Keith’s eyes scanned slowly over Lance’s groceries, taking in the array of meats Lance had put in the cart, surrounded by chips and pastries and other things for when he was feeling particularly snacky. He blinked, before looking up at Lance, this stupidly knowing look in his eye, as if he’d caught Lance out already.

“Hey Lance,” he said. His words seemed to veil a deeper meaning. Perhaps, _hey asshole_.

“Keith,” Lance greeted with a nod.

Keith’s stupid observant eyes looked over Lance’s groceries again. “Having a party?” he asked idly. _Fake_  idly.

Lance ground his teeth. “Yep,” he lied.

Keith hummed disbelievingly. Lance cursed Keith’s very existence.

“Listen,” Keith said suddenly. “I’m having some people over tomorrow night if you want to come,” he said with a casual shrug. “You know, unless you’re busy.”

The ‘No thanks, dick,’ was on the tip of Lance’s tongue, but he held it back. If he _did_  go, then Keith couldn’t possibly think he was a werewolf. Lance could just pop in, hang out for a bit, and get out of there before his transformation happened. He could do that, right?

“Sure,” Lance said with a shrug, and he watched as Keith’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh, really? You’re not — you’re not busy?”

“Nope,” Lance said. “See you then! You mind texting me the address?”

Keith could only nod wordlessly, because then his few groceries were being checked out by the cashier, and he was opening his wallet.

 _That’ll show him_ , Lance thought grudgingly.

It was of course a dangerous idea, and Lance would have to be careful to time it down to the minute, but… Well, it just might work. If he could get Keith off his back, then maybe it’d be worth it, too.

—

By the time Lance pulled up in front of Keith’s house, he was feeling anxious. Keith didn’t live too far from him, less than a ten minute drive, really, but in the midsts of transforming into a werewolf ten minutes was like an eternity. Lance would have to get out of there _fast_  if he wanted to get home and chain himself up in time.

But besides feeling anxious about being a werewolf on a night out on the full moon, he was also anxious in the manner of not really knowing what to do when invited to a party by his rival. He was sitting in his parked car, a bottle of wine in his lap as he psyched himself up to go in. And yes, he’d brought a party gift. He was a dog, sure, but he wasn’t an _animal_.

Finally, Lance convinced himself to get out of the car, if only because the later he went in the later he’d feel obligated to stay, and he really couldn’t stay that late unless he wanted to possibly eat some party guests.

It was with trepidation that Lance rung the doorbell, although he was greeted by the familiar face of Keith’s brother, someone he’d seen in passing due to the unfortunate proximity of their coffee shops.

“Lance!” Shiro said, smiling as he opened the door wide and stepped aside to allow Lance to come in. “I wasn’t sure if you’d actually make it.”

Lance resisted the urge to squint at him. Had Keith told Shiro that he thought Lance was a werewolf? Was it a mistake to come here? Was he going to be trapped and tortured before he had a chance to escape?!

“You know me,” Lance said instead, gesturing at himself grandly. “I can’t say no to a party.”

Shiro laughed, and pointed further inside the house. “Please, make yourself at home. We have drinks and snacks in the kitchen, and Keith’s probably somewhere around, sulking.”  
It was the kitchen that Lance bee-lined to first, where he promptly scarfed down an entire plate of appetizers. God, he was hungry. From there, though, he kept his eye out for Keith, because he had to know that Lance had actually been here.

Also, side note, Lance almost couldn’t believe that there were actually _people_  at this party. Like, people Lance knew and recognized. People Lance _liked_ , who somehow liked Keith enough to attend his party.

It didn’t take too long to find Keith, because he actually was in a corner sulking. His arms were crossed over his chest, his hand loosely holding a cup as he examined the festivities around him. Lance had to clear his throat for Keith to look over and notice him.

“Lance!” he said, sounding surprised. Of course he was. He hadn’t thought Lance would actually have the guts to come here on the night of the full moon, but that’s where he’d thought _wrong_. “You’re here.”

“Sure am,” Lance said. He thrusted the wine at Keith. “Um. I brought this. So, you know.”

Keith looked up at him, grinning. “Thanks,” he said. Lance wondered just what was going through his mind.

What was going through his mind, apparently, was the idea of getting Lance drunk enough that he would forget he was a werewolf, so that he’d wolf out on the party and finally prove Keith right.

Or at least, that’s what Lance assumed Keith was thinking as they both took what Lance was pretty sure was their fifth shot of the night. But no matter how drunk Lance got, he wouldn’t be able to forget that he was a werewolf. That he only had another hour or so before he needed to get home and chain himself up.

Oh, fuck. But Lance couldn’t drive like this…. No matter. He’d just run far enough out into the woods so that he could transform there.

Anyway, Keith definitely wouldn’t be besting Lance tonight. No matter how much Keith ignored his other party guests for Lance. No matter how drunk he got, constantly getting closer and closer to Lance, leaning up against him and touching his arms and giggling right into his ears.

And, okay, maybe Keith was winning a little bit when he stumbled onto his bed — when had they gone upstairs again? — and pulled Lance with him. But of course, that was just because he was ahead of the curve. He couldn’t _really_  trick Lance. Lance was just… letting himself get tricked.

 _Yes_ , he thought, as he hummed into Keith’s mouth and ran his hands along his sides, _it was all just part of the plan._

_Wait, fuck — no it wasn’t!_

Lance’s hairs raised all along his body as he suddenly tore himself away from Keith, rolling off the bed. Keith sat up and looked at Lance, blinking at him in confusion, shirtless and with his hair a mess. Wow, when had Lance done _that_?

“Lance?” Keith said. Dammit, he was crazy! He was seriously willing to drag Lance into bed and try to seduce him in an attempt to see if Lance was a fucking werewolf? Was he _trying_  to get himself killed?

“Shit,” Lance said, shaking his head. “I just remembered, um, that I left my stove on! I gotta go, dude.”

With that, Lance was stumbling out of Keith’s room, leaving the adorable, messy-haired, sleepy-eyed boy behind. Not that Lance, y’know, actually thought all those things about him. They were just facts, probably.

Besides, there was a whole lot of pain going on in Lance’s body. Enough that it sobered him as he ran down the stairs and out the back door, somehow going unnoticed by any party-goers.

Lance was already groaning low in his throat as he ran as fast as he could, as far as he could into the forest. God, he was such an idiot. What had he been thinking, going out on the night of the full moon? And getting wasted, to boot?

It was so stupid of him, putting all those innocent people in danger. Desperate to make up for it now, Lance kept running, even as his legs and feet began to snap, making him run on broken bones in an attempt to distance himself further from any population.

Eventually, he came to a point where he couldn’t stand it anymore, where he collapsed onto the ground and sobbed and screamed as his fingers gouged into the dirt, looking for any semblance of something to hold onto, to ground himself in.

As always, the minutes seemed to drag by as Lance’s body tore itself apart and reshaped itself in a different form. But also as always, by the end of it, there was a large, brown wolf in his place, one that stood up on shaky legs, looked up at the moon, and howled.

—

Waking up after the full moon sucked.

Lance stumbled to his feet, aching all over as he tried to orient himself. Nothing smelled familiar. And there didn’t even seem to be any animal carcasses nearby, nothing to lead Lance back the way he’d come.

He heaved a great sigh, feeling exhausted, and picked a random direction to start walking in, hoping his werewolf senses wouldn’t lead him astray.

He walked for nearly a half hour before something changed.

It wasn’t that he recognized his surroundings or anything as lucky as that. No, he heard a twig snap. Minuscule, and kind of distant, but as loud as a gunshot to Lance’s sensitive ears. It could’ve been some wild animal, sure, but it also could’ve been a person.

Lance did what any sensible person would do and hid behind a tree.

He stood there and waited as an all-too-familiar mullet came into view, the head it was seated on looking around carefully.

 _Too_  carefully.

“Lance?” Keith said incredulously, staring right at him, and Lance blinked. God, he was out of it. Like… hungover on top of werewolf-ed out. He’d totally thought he was more hidden behind the tree.

“Oh, hey Keith,” Lance said, cursing all the events that’d led him to this moment.

“What are you doing out here?” Keith said. Playing it cool, huh? Pretending you don’t know? Fucker.

“Oh, you know,” Lance hedged. “Uhh… Drunk Lance is a maniac.”

Keith took a step closer, and Lance held his hands out, saying, “Ah, dude! Stay over there! I’m naked!”

“Wha — _why_?!”

“I don’t know!” Lance lied. It felt like Keith had all the proof right here. Lance couldn’t believe he wasn’t calling him out already. Well, actually, he could believe it a little bit. If he was anything like Pidge, then he’d make sure he had 100% proof before actually accusing Lance of anything. He probably wouldn’t rest until he saw Lance actually turn into a wolf before his eyes.

Keith pressed a hand to his head. “Okay. Um… I guess I can give you my boxers?”

“The ones that you’re wearing?” Lance said, grossed out.

“It’s not like we have many options!” Keith exclaimed. “Shiro and I have been looking for you for a while now. Your car’s still here and a couple people saw you run off into the woods last night, so.”

“Sorry,” Lance said. Maybe… maybe he really could play this all off as a drunken thing. He turned around as Keith started unbuttoning his pants, and soon enough a pair of boxers were being thrown at him.

They were warm.

Lance was a pervert.

He pulled them on and stumbled out from behind the tree, blushing as Keith’s eyes ran over him. Oh, God. Memories of the night before came rushing back in, of them in Keith’s bed, of Keith’s hands on his body, of his tongue in Keith’s mouth.

God, that was really fucking low of him. Like, sure, he wanted to know Lance was a werewolf, but that was taking it a bit too far, don’t you think? He didn’t need to fucking play with Lance’s feelings like that.

And so, as Lance stood there, and Keith’s eyes roved over his body a little _too_  knowingly, Lance snapped.

“You’re such a dick,” he said.

Keith’s eyes shot right back up to Lance’s, his face red, as he said, “What?”

“Like, I get that you were curious, or whatever,” Lance said, waving his hand flippantly. “But you didn’t have to play with my feelings like that, man.”

“I’m not curious!” Keith protested. “I’m — I’m _sure_.”

“Yeah, I bet you are,” Lance scoffed.

“I’m serious!” Keith said. “I’ve always known!”

“ _Always_?” Lance said, scandalized.

“ _Yes_ ,” Keith said, sounding both exasperated and relieved. “I wasn’t like, experimenting or anything. And it was dumb to try anything when we were both drunk, but it was real. I really like you, Lance.”

Lance blinked. He floundered. He gaped, his mouth open and his eyes squinted in confusion as he stared at Keith. “You’re — wait, what are you talking about?”

Keith stared at him incredulously. “Us!” he said. “Me! Being gay! And — and kissing you! I’ve liked you for what feels like forever now. And I thought, after last night — but I guess… Uh, do you not feel the same?”

Oh. _Oh_. Oh, fucking _fuck_. Lance was an idiot!

“No, no, no — I mean _yes_ , I _do_ ,” Lance said, because that, unfortunately, wasn’t a lie. Or maybe not unfortunately? Not anymore, at least. Not now that Keith liked him. Had… _had_  like him. For what “felt like forever now”. Holy shit.

“Were you talking about something else?” Keith said, now looking at Lance in confusion, and Lance couldn't’ really help it. He was so high-strung after the month he’d had, and after all the stress and confusion, his lips felt particularly loose.

“ _Yes_ ,” he said. “I thought we were talking about me being a werewolf.”

Keith blinked at him. “What?”

“Shit,” Lance said. “Did I really just tell you that?”

“You’re a _what_?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know!” Lance suddenly snapped. Because Keith _did_  know. He had to! So many things had added up….

“ _What_?” Keith said again, and Lance threw back his head and groaned.

“Come _on_!” he said. “You come into _The Last Roast_  and talk about the screaming —”

“Which you said was you having sex with someone,” Keith said, looking a little downtrodden.

“Yeah, a _lie_ ,” Lance scoffed. “And then you tried to get me to put on your silver necklace, don’t act like you didn’t know. _And_ , you invited me to your house for a party! On the full moon! Because you _knew_  if I didn’t show up it was because I was a werewolf!”

Keith was gaping at him. “That’s fucking crazy!” he said, shaking his head. “ _You’re_  crazy!”

Lance made an offended noise. “You seriously don’t believe me?”

“Of course not!”

Lance glared at Keith, and Keith glared right back at Lance. This was what Lance was used to, though usually not after having screamed about being a werewolf, and definitely not when he knew about the feelings Keith was harboring for him.

“Fine,” Lance scoffed. “I’ll prove it to you then. Next full moon!”

“Fine!” Keith said. And then his eyes flicked down to Lance’s lips, and well, that was kind of an invitation, wasn’t it? Lance stepped forward and kissed him, holding Keith’s face still as he did, before stepping away again, the both of them still glaring.

—

The next month was… different.

For starters, he and Keith were dating. And they were spending a lot of time together. Like, a _lot_  of time.

Lance started visiting Keith on his breaks, like Keith had already been doing for Lance, and even their chalk board sign rivalry died down. Currently, Lance’s sign read “my boyfriend wishes their coffee was as good as ours” with an arrow pointing towards _Coffee Coffee Bean Bean_.

And there was also the fact that Keith liked to make jokes about Lance being a werewolf, still thinking Lance was just pulling his leg.

Oh yeah, and turned out, Lance didn’t _have_  to get all angry and hyperactive at the end of the month. There were other ways to exert himself, it seemed.

But finally, the full moon rolled back around. And yeah, Lance normally hated the full moon. Dreaded it. But he couldn’t wait to prove Keith wrong, so it all felt kind of worth it.

Keith was still taking this all as a joke, though, even as Lance ate a chicken wing as he led Keith down into his basement for the first time.

“Holy shit, Lance,” he said, looking around in astonishment. “You’re into some kinky shit.”

“I _wish_  I was into some kinky shit,” Lance said, finally tossing the chicken bone to the corner of the room as he started tugging hard on the chains, making sure they were all good and secure in the wall. “You can leave at any time, by the way,” he said. “You don’t have to sit here and watch me the whole time. And just ignore any whining or barking or anything — don’t even think about letting me out of these,” he said, holding up the chains as he did.

Keith crossed his arms, looking kind of wary now but still disbelieving. “Right,” he said. “I go upstairs only for you to bring a wolf into your house and hide out back, waiting to trick me. I’m onto you, McClain.”

“The severity of your denial is a little alarming,” Lance commented. “You’re not going to be scarred when you see literally every single one of my bones break, are you?”

Keith laughed, but Lance just grinned at him, because for once he wasn’t joking.

Lance could feel it, still far off, but definitely coming. With a defeated huff, one that knew exactly the kind of torture that was coming, he pulled off his shirt and pants, leaving his underwear on because yeah, he was a little insecure.

Keith remained silent as Lance labored through the long process of securing himself properly. And he _meant_  long process. He overdid it a little bit, even, wanting to be absolutely certain that he couldn’t possibly hurt Keith.

Finally, he sat down on the ground to wait.

“This is the weirdest thing you’ve ever done,” Keith commented, sitting down across the room from Lance.

“You won’t be saying that in like, ten minutes,” Lance huffed. He leaned his head back against the wall, swallowing and closing his eyes as the tremors started, darting through his body and kicking up dread like dust in a desert. He tried to keep it down for this part, clamping down on the groans and moans that he was usually emitting by now in an attempt not to freak Keith out.

Then again, it’d probably be easier to not freak him out by not having him watch this, but Lance was stubborn. And he hated being called a liar.

So here they were.

Lance was breathing heavily, sweat collecting on his skin as he felt his muscles roiling, slowly shredding themselves apart and preparing to reform.

“Fuck,” Lance panted, before opening his eyes and looking up at Keith. “Seriously, you can leave any time you want. Don’t feel obligated to stay. I bought ear plugs for you — they’re on my dresser.”

“Lance…”

Lance couldn’t answer, too busy doubling over and gasping as something _snapped_. Lance tugged against the chains, groaning as gathered them up, looking for something to hold on to.

He was panting now, and as something in his chest cracked, followed by a few somethings in his hands, Lance collapsed against the ground, sobbing.

“Lance,” Keith said, sounding worried, and Lance heard him get up, heard him come closer.

“S-stay back,” Lance groaned, and he couldn’t help yelping as his spine snapped in three places, leaving him paralyzed and panting against the ground.

A hand dropped onto Lance’s back, rubbing soothingly as another ventured up into his hair, tugging carefully at the strands. It was so different. And so… good.

Lance had been doing this on his own for so long now. Ever since that stupid day when he’d thought it’d be a good idea to go on a hike. He’d been a while from home, having driven to a nice hiking spot lots of people had recommended to him, and he’d set out on the path alone. After all, Lance enjoyed his alone time just as much as the next person, and there was something amazing about being able to revel in the beauty of nature for as long as you wanted.

It’d been a good hike, for the most part. That was, until Lance had tripped, skidding down a steep incline and spraining his ankle along the way.

He’d tried to turn back, tried to get back to his car, to safety, but traveling on an inured ankle was hell, even with the branch Lance had fashioned into a makeshift cane from a tree.

What’d been an hour’s walk before had turned into a several-hours-limp back in the direction he’d come from. It wasn’t long before night had fallen, which was horrible enough as it was, traveling through a forest in the dark. Talk about every single horror movie in existence, right?

But the creepy atmosphere hadn’t been the worst of Lance’s problems.

No, it was that he’d heard a rustle in the underbrush, had turned to look with his nerves already on high alert, only to be pounced on.

His screams had echoed unheard throughout the forest as his side had been torn into, his hands similarly scraped and bitten as he’d tried to shove the ravenous animal aside.

In the end, there’d been nothing he could do but scream and cry as he’d experienced the worst pain of his life (at the time). It wasn’t even because of him that the wolf left him alone — there’s been howls in the distance, and the wolf had perked up, growling low in its throat as it’d turned and followed the call.

Lance had gone into shock, laying right there in the forest on the full moon. He’d shaken and shivered, crying quietly as he prayed for it to be over, prayed for it to be quick, prayed for his mom. He’d passed out instead of dying, however, and when he’d woken up, it’d been morning again. His side had been completely healed, along with his ankle, and Lance had managed to convince himself that it’d been the most vivid and horrible nightmare he’d ever experienced.

Until the next full moon.

The rest, as they say, was history.

But since then, he’d been alone. Learning how to deal with all his new quirks, all his new problems, all on his own. He’d gone full moon after full moon suffering by himself in his basement, and now, at the touch of warm, comforting hands on his back, Lance felt his body unclench, felt a sob escape his throat, as much from relief as from pain.

“It’s okay,” Keith whispered, as Lance’s legs broke and he screamed.

It was as painful as it always was, but maybe it was a little bit quicker. And something about it was definitely a little bit better.

Towards the end, Lance kept begging Keith to get away, to back up before he was fully turned, but Keith didn't listen, insistent on being there for him the whole time.

As always, it ended with a wolf on the floor, panting where Lance had once been screaming. But this time, it didn’t feel full of rage, full of hunger. It didn’t growl and bark and bruise its body pulling against its chains, desperate to be free.

It just sat up a little, whimpering, and set its head on the leg of the boy next to him. It closed its eyes and let its ears droop as fingers brushed calmly through its fur.

—

Lance had woken up after the full moon for almost two years now. He knew what to expect. He was used to the cold floor and the even colder chains pressing into his skin. He was used to the dread of realizing it was the morning’s breeze raising goosebumps all along his body, knowing nature surrounded him and that he’d probably left a trail of mauled animals in his wake.

What he _wasn’t_  used to was waking up in a bed, his naked body covered with the warmth of a down comforter and pressed against the even better warmth of the man he was rapidly falling in love with.

“Keith?” Lance croaked, lifting his head up a bit to see Keith’s head pillowed on his chest.

“Mmm, you finally awake?”

“Babe, how the hell did you carry me up here?”

Keith snorted, his fingers trailing over Lance’s bare stomach. “I didn’t,” he said, like it was obvious. “You followed me after I unchained you.”

Lance sucked a breath, sitting up hastily and dislodging Keith in the process, who grumbled something grumpily. “You did _what_?! I could’ve killed you!”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Oh, please,” he said. “You’re harmless.”

A series of half-formed words and sentences spluttered out of Lance’s mouth, who eventually ended up saying, “No I’m not!”

“You’re just a good boy who wants some cuddles.”

Lance flushed, protesting as Keith pushed him back against the bed and flopped on top of him, closing his eyes as if he were going to go right back to sleep.

“You’re so wrong,” Lance said, shaking his head. “I could’ve killed you.”

“Mmm. Just keep telling yourself that,” Keith said, patting his chest and already half-asleep again. Lance stared at the ceiling in disbelief, but there wasn’t really anything he could do about it now. He could only hold his boyfriend and resolve to never let him unchain him again.

(Keith would promise not to, but come next full moon, he’d be cuddling with Lance on the bed again.)

(Lance, concerned for both Keith’s safety and his sanity, would force him to stay at his own house that night while he went through the transformation alone.)

(Somehow, Lance would wake up at Keith’s house, in Keith’s bed, with Keith looking entirely too fucking smug.)

(Lance would give up. It was clear he had no intention of ever hurting Keith, no matter his form.)

**Author's Note:**

> check out the artist here at [zibilart.tumblr.com](https://zibilart.tumblr.com)!!!
> 
> and you can find me [here](https://jilliancares.tumblr.com)!!


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